Crossing Lines
by Icecane
Summary: A criminal, on the run from Interpol, comes into contact with the Cooper Gang. Proving himself useful, he is allowed to join their ranks. But tensions quickly begin to grow as they clash on their very different ideals. And as a powerful group makes itself known, the gang finds themselves threatened. Will they be able to stop it? Or will they be torn apart from the inside?
1. Impressions

**A/N: Well, hello everyone. Name's Icecane. How do you do? Anyway... This is my first major Sly Cooper fic. I word it this way because I have actually done a simple one-shot before. For those of you who remember it, I had actually mentioned I was planning on doing bigger things later on. And that was... holy damn, a while ago actually. **

**So, this is the first chapter. Hope everyone enjoys it and looks forward to further installments**.

_**Crossing Lines**_

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**Chapter 1: Impressions**

The night air was quiet, a deaf silence encompassed the streets, the Paris neighborhood was all but deserted. It was a seedy part of town, seemingly abandoned by any passing glance. A hotspot for back-alley crimes and a haven for criminals to avoid the long arm of the law.

The near peaceful setting was broken however as several sounds originating from one source cut a swath through the street. Heavy breathing, hard footsteps, and the flapping of a coat. Such sounds and more came from the one involuntarily creating them.

A fox, his body covered as much by the worn trench coat he wore as the sweat that soaked his fur, ran as fast as his aching legs would allow. He had to keep going, the burning in his overworked lungs and crippling exhaustion that threatened to take him down any minute was ignored as his pointed ears could only hear one thing, the quick footsteps of his distant pursuer.

He had to get away. That was all that mattered to him now. Faced with the old survival instinct, fight or flight, it was what kept him going. However, a tinge of frustration built from it. After so many years of answering the call of the natural response, he couldn't help but miss the old days back when he could choose the former.

Escaping wasn't all that was on his mind however. As he ran, the fox's face was twisted into a snarling glare, directing it mostly at himself.

"_So stupid_," the portion of his brain called hindsight shouted in the deep reaches of his mind, scolding himself as if he were a child. "_Have I really become this cocky? Taking a stroll right in front of the Interpol station as if I owned the place! And just my luck too! The latest cop on my case just so happens to be leaving at the same time! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_"

Coming to a four-way intersection, the fox quickly turned on his heel and bolted down a new street, hoping it would help take his predator off of his trail. But, lady luck turned her back on him once again, the fox found a blockade of trashcans laid out by a careless citizen in his way. With a growl, the fox used his speed to jump the metallic cans.

The landing could hardly be considered graceful. Tripping forward as soon as he hit the pavement, the fox tumbled and quickly resumed his running pace. To his shock, the quickening footsteps behind him sounded closer. "_God damn it! No one should be that fast._"

Realizing the inevitability in his actions, the fox took a chance. Passing by an alley, he turned and ran down it, becoming blocked at both sides by the towering walls of two buildings.

It was almost like a maze. The alley broke off into several different paths, most becoming blocked off and inaccessible, it forced him through linear paths that made the fox think he was just simplifying his impending capture. But soon, the fox found himself skidding to a halt.

"Shit," he breathed, staring up at the wall that now blocked his path, trapping him in a dead end. Now, the fox wasn't one to believe in any form of higher-being, looking down on the lowly mortals of this world. But for one brief shining moment, he could have sworn someone up above was laughing at him.

Thinking quickly, the fox opted to turn around and try another path before it was too late. Turning around to do just that, his legs suddenly froze in place as a commanding voice broke through the overbearing silence.

"Freeze, criminal!"

Sighing contemptuously, the fox slowly made his full turn, immediately looking down the barrel of a shock pistol. But his eyes quickly shifted to the one holding the pistol, the voluptuous Carmelita Fox. The trapped fox couldn't help but trace the steeled vixen's form, detailing her long blue hair, the tight fitting jeans and open jacket she wore, as well as the cold gaze of justified intent in her expression.

"Well well well," the fox chuckled with an uneasy smile, "Inspector Fox, it's so wonderful to finally meet you face to face." A scoff escaped him, causing him to preform a coy act of discipline on himself with a tap of his forehead with his palm. "But how rude of me, we haven't had proper introductions, have we?" The fox then preformed a slight gentleman's bow for the lady. "I'm-"

"I know who you are," Carmelita snapped, keeping her pistol trained on her target.

The fox grimaced slightly, but much of his attention was turned toward the side of the building. A fire escape clung to the side, situated right in the center between the two foxes."Right..." He took a step forward. "There's no reason we can't be civil now, let's just start this off on the right-"

"Keep your hands up!" the vixen barked, her eyes narrowing as her trigger finger twitched.

Halting on the spot, the fox slowly raised his hands, but not all the way. He kept them just at his waist, like an old west gunslinger preparing for a showdown. Carmelita took notice to the action, her eyes watching every detail in the fox's actions.

"Can I at least congratulate you on a job well done?" the fox inquired. "I mean, after so many of your peers tried and failed at my capture, you manage it so quickly. Makes me wonder why Barkley took so long to see your advantage over them."

The Inspector's eyebrow raised curiously, "Advantage?" she questioned.

"Well," he smirked, "that it takes a fox to catch a fox of course."

Carmelita huffed, her brow furrowing back as she took a step toward her captive. "If only you _were_ a fox."

"Ooo," the fox flinched, acting as if he had just been struck, "such a sharp tongue. Though I'd love to stand here all night and talk fractions with you, I'll just say you're technically right and leave it at that." Taking a cautious step forward, the fox's expression shifted to a serious one as he stared the cop in front of him down. "I suppose I should also apologize for ruining your moment. For you see, though you have me against a wall now, I have no intention on going quietly."

Just as he expected, Carmelita's gaze hardened even further and she pulled the trigger of her pistol, releasing a powerful blast of electrical energy at her target. With the quickest reflexes, the fox reached into his coat and withdrew two strange looking swords..

Carmelita's sights caught the weapons as her eyes widened. She had heard about them from other officers within Interpol, all of whom having been on the fox's case at one point in time. She had her doubts they even existed, but she has seen criminals use stranger weapons.

Though the identical weapons were like swords, they didn't have an actual blade. Instead, a long pole extended from the hilt and ended in a hook. The hilt itself was a simple black griped handle with a flat rectangular guard. At the very bottom of the handle, a small spike jutted out, too small to do any lethal harm to someone.

As the blast fired from the inspector's pistol rushed forward at its target, the fox stood his ground. Crossing his swords together, the blast smashed straight between them. If his feet hadn't been planted firmly, the fox would have surly been launched onto the ground with the force that struck him.

But the actual electricity of the shot never reached him. The poles of his swords crackled with an electrical charge, running up and down the length of it but never reaching the actual hilt.

Carmelita could only stare at the sight in shock. The blast should have struck him, rendering the fox unconscious for easy capture and transport. But no, instead the strange weapons he brandished absorbed it like a sponge to water.

Seeing the reaction gained, the fox smirked at the vixen. Still holding the sparking swords, he struck them both down into the pavement. Immediately, the charge in both of them was grounded, dispersing harmlessly into the earth.

"Now now," the fox taunted, "you'll have to try something new. As long as I have these," he twirled the swords in his grasp playfully, "you're standard-issue brand of enforcement won't get you anywhere." His gaze fully turned to the fire escape, his feet propelling him toward it. "Now, I must take my leave."

Regaining her wits, Carmelita's face twisted into a leering scowl. Aiming her pistol, she fired once more at the fox. But the criminal was already in motion, narrowly dodging the shot as he jumped toward the fire escape, using the hook of his sword to catch the metallic ladder and swing himself up.

Growling furiously, Carmelita fired a third shot, immediately regretting the decision. Missing her mark entirely, the shot instead struck the fire escape itself. Having quickly scaled it, the fox was already atop the roof it led to as the zig-zagging steps were destroyed. After a loud crash, all that was left of it was a heap of broken metal.

"Thank you for the assistance, Miss Fox," the escaping canine shouted down with thankful wave. "Farewell for now, Inspector. Better luck next time."

Carmelita watched as her charge disappeared, a chuckle faded away along with his hurried footsteps. The handle of her pistol nearly snapped as her grip on the weapon tightened, her knuckles nearly breaking from the force. "I'll find you, criminal!" she declared, shouting so even the heavens would hear. "I'll make sure you're behind bars where you belong! You will answer for what you've done!"

To the fox, the proclamations made by his badge wearing opponent were nothing but fading howls.

A relieved smile was plastered on his muzzle as he ran across the rooftops. He could still feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, still feel how taut his muscles had become in the tense situation. But he had gotten away, safe for another day to do as he pleased.

Though the fox was still exhausted from his escape, rest still wasn't something he could take just yet. He knew of the Inspector's abilities, it wouldn't take her long to scale the roof and return to the chase, he planned to be miles away by then.

Even with his own joy of victory, an unease was tugging at the back of his mind. The fox couldn't shake the feeling that he was still within the gaze of a predator.

Halting on the spot, the fox stood still as he took in the silence around him. Not even the humming engines of speeding cars were nearby, nor the cry of a random act of street violence.

But then, the fox's pointed ears twitched. His head jerked toward the left, his mind swearing he heard a soft footfall in the distance.

"No..." he whispered, trying to convince his instincts that they were wrong. "It's nothing, not even that fox would catch up to me so quickly." Once again, his ears twitched and turned on his heel to the other side. It was the same noise, like a soft footstep scratching on the rough concrete of the rooftops.

It worried him. Though only rumors, the fox had heard of Inspector Fox acquiring a new partner some time ago. Maybe he hadn't escaped the law's cold gaze just yet.

The fox was then yanked from his own inner musing, he grunted in pain as a sharp sting struck into his shoulder. On reflex, his arm reached up to feel the spot. His mind flared to shock as he felt something sticking into him.

Pulling it free, the fox examined the foreign object. It was a small needle, attached to two feathers of some miniature bird he couldn't place. Throwing the object down, the fox stumbled forward, nearly collapsing on the ground.

The roof he stood on seemed to slowly morph into wet sand as he tried moving. His vision blurred while his muscles grew weak with each passing moment. A heavy fatigue settled into his body, as though he hadn't slept for days.

"What... what is this?" the fox questioned aloud, his voice becoming just as weak as his body. The only response given to him was a shuddering quake shooting through him, making his body tremble as if he were freezing.

As the world itself began to spin, the fox collapsed onto his hands and knees. Thick grunts escaped him as he put his dwindling strength into simply moving.

Old memories then flooded through his mind, reminding him of times involving drug induced sleeps, only to wake up in a darkroom with no memory of past events. Though his latest adversary was one of the law, it was a foe nonetheless, even if he was only aware of shock pistols being their tool of choice.

He wasn't going to be captured, not like this, not like some escaped animal or test subject. With sheer willpower alone, the fox brought himself to his feet and moved toward the edge of the roof, seeing it as a way to freedom.

Only a few feet away from the end, the fox was again stopped by his own instincts as a light thud of two feet rang out behind him. As he turned around, all he was greeted with was a flash of yellow, swinging into his vision and bringing only a millisecond of pain before sending his world into darkness.

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**A/N: Okay then, that was chapter one. How was it? Good? Bad? Too vague to give an accurate assumption? All three? Maybe.**

**So yeah. Just some things to get out there as a beginning of the story detail.**

**In terms of story, the character being brought in here is actually from another fic I've done, Crossings to be exact. Now, don't worry. It won't be a mandatory read for anyone to understand what's going on here. There will only be a minor reference to it here and there. But otherwise, you won't be missing out on anything by not reading it, except for a few more depthy details on this particular character. Nothing to worry on.**

**I'm only mentioning it for those who may eventually enjoy my writing to want to see a little more, or the off chance that you're actually into the particular fandom that the fic goes into. **

**Hopefully I will be able to weave a good story for everyone to enjoy. I've had this one planned for a while, because... you know... (cough) Sly might be right... but I hardly ever am... (cough second time)**

**So, don't forget to voice your opinion as chapters are brought up, I'd love to hear about where I've done good or bad as the story progresses. I'll try to work on this often, but this will be more of a side project kind of story for a little while so it won't have my fullest attention all of the time. But I'm certain the quality won't degrade because of it.**


	2. Surprises and Stripes

**Chapter 2: Surprises and Stripes**

"I think he's coming to."

It was the first thing the fox heard as his mind began the process of waking up. Much like an old computer, the start-up was slow.

But his ears were the first thing his mind got working correctly. The voice speaking was feminine, sounding as though the speaker suffered from a mild problem with her sinuses.

The fox then groaned as he began to feel a splitting headache, originating from a throbbing sore spot on his forehead.

After several moments of his senses coming back to him, the fox's eyes slowly opened. Squinting out into his surroundings, he was immediately overwhelmed by a blurry white mess. The walls and ceilings all seemed to be the same lifeless color, lacking in any imagination other than bland nothingness.

Then, the view seemed to improve as he took notice to a woman leaning in front of him. Though he couldn't make out major details in how she looked, he could see the lavender fur on her face and blonde hair atop her head.

"You doing okay?" she asked. It was the same voice he had heard moments ago. "I hope you weren't hurt too bad." Her tone was sincere, something that, even in his current state, surprised him. Even if he was able to respond articulately, he wasn't sure he would have the capacity to.

Another groan escaped him, not from the pounding anvil that had replaced his skull, but his realization as to where he was. A hospital in police custody.

The steady stream of memories on his last few conscious moments compounded the theory. He wasn't fully aware how, but his capture must have been messy for him to end up in a hospital. A sense of satisfaction could be brought from the fact that he had at least put up a fight.

"Well," the fox murmured, his voice barely understandable, "a hospital can't be too bad. At least I have a nice nurse looking after me." His ears twitched as the woman in front of him giggled lightly.

"A hospital? You must have hit your head harder than I thought."

The fox's eyes cracked open fully. As their focus was returned, the white ocean he was stranded in faded away along with the blur.

The scenery hadn't improved much. The room was dim, the few lights that were in the room looked as though they were on their last legs. Only the light he was haphazardly left under seemed to have any merit to the bulb's longevity, being what created the illusion of white in his dazed state. The ceiling and walls were a plain grey and brown. A few windows lined up the wall he was facing, looking impossible to gain any real visual view of the outside, or inside if you were on the other end. The place just seemed to have a rustic feel to it. But still, it's _never_ a good thing to wake up somewhere you didn't recognize.

The fox immediately tried to stand up from the chair he was sitting in. To his shock, he found his body stiffened, coming to the conclusion he was tied up.

"I think you might have overdone it."

It was the woman again. The fox figured she wasn't talking to him, but the sound caused his reflexes to act and turn his gaze to the source.

She was a mouse, with lavender fur and blonde hair like he had noticed. A bandana was tied on top of her head, keeping her circular ears and braided hair pressed back and away from her face. She also wore a pair of overalls, to the fox's surprise, they looked even more worn out than his coat. He then took notice to the rather large pair of glasses she had. They gave her a strange, mixed look of nerdy and tom-boy, an odd combination.

With his senses fully returned, his focus turned from the mouse to who she was addressing. The fox gaped as he recognized who he saw.

A male raccoon, leaning against the nearby wall. His aloof manner showed a hint of careless contentedness as he tilted some of his weight onto a cane that was at his side. Nearly half of the cane's size was in the handle, a metallic tip shaped like a C.

Any resident in Paris would recognize the cane straightaway, but the raccoon's attire piled on more and more of the fact of who he was. The blue shirt, shoes, hat and gloves he wore. And the fox couldn't help but notice the belt buckle at his waist, holding the symbol of a gang of master thieves.

"The darts didn't work as intended, had to think of something," the raccoon said in an offhanded tone, answering the mouse who had spoken to him.

"Sly Cooper," the fox breathed, having never thought he would have come face to face with the famed thief. Sly's full attention was then drawn to him, his brown eyes locking onto his own. To the fox, his situation didn't seem to improve.

Though he was glad he wasn't in custody, and _really_ glad he wasn't in the hands of some psychopath, it still didn't put him out of trouble. The fox knew of the Cooper Gang's reputation. They were equally known for their daring thefts as much as their ability to thin out the competition in the way of the world's criminals.

Though the specific criminals they went after usually had their hands dirtied with the most heinous of acts, the fox couldn't say his own hands were pure.

"So," Sly said, a smirk showing on his face, "our friend has finally decided to join us. Sorry about the rough treatment. We were short on time and had an Inspector on our tails."

The fox's mind returned to the last moment he could remember, a flash of yellow before he blacked out. He looked back at the cane in Sly's grip, eying the yellow metal it had.

"What's going on?" he asked, attempting to keep his tone steady.

"Well," Sly began, a grin replacing his smirk as he looked the fox down, "we've been noticing you for some time. Then again, you've made quite the name for yourself. Isn't that right, Crimson Cross?"

Even though his situation wasn't looking its best, the fox couldn't help but chuckle at his forced name. He never used it himself, nor did he ever enjoy its existence, but he accepted it as a sensationalized title.

"All good things I hope," the fox replied, studying the subtle reactions of the raccoon. "Though it doesn't explain my question."

"To put it simply," Sly said, turning serious as he eyed the fox intently, "we would like to invite you to join the gang. We've heard a good deal about your exploits here in Paris, and based on what we've seen during your little spat with Carmelita, I'm sure you'd make a valuable addition." Sly frowned slightly at the strange look the fox gave him, a mixed expression of a grimace and utter shock. "I'll assume you know who we are?"

"Of course," the fox said, looking about the room in a confused state. "Who wouldn't know the Cooper Gang? But... I had heard rumors that you disbanded some time ago."

"Well..." Sly trailed off, developing a dejected manor that seemed peculiar to the fox. "I'd say it was more of an early retirement... But it seems that thieving is too good of a gig to pass up easily. So now, we are looking to get back into the game, and we think some new blood is just what we need."

The fox was still dumbstruck at what he was being told. To think that one of the most famous criminal groups in the world would contact him in such a way, only to offer him a seat amongst them, it seemed unreal. Again, the canine's ears twitched as a new voice broke into the fray.

"Allow me to explain it to him, Sly." Following the voice, the fox's sights were set to a small turtle coming toward them. He wore little except for a small bow tie and a pair of glasses that had the largest lenses he had ever seen. Besides that, the fox could easily see the wheelchair he was confined in, a large assortment of buttons strewn about the front of it.

"Bentley," the fox murmured, recognizing the famed brains of the gang.

"Yes," Bentley replied. "And to start off with, let me introduce you to Penelope, our RC specialist." He gestured toward the mouse, causing her to give a slight nod of affirmation.

"It's a pleasure," the fox replied respectfully.

"Now," Bentley continued, "let me also give my apologies for what happened to you. I had used a sleeping dart on you in order to bring you here safely. For some reason however, my formula didn't work properly on you and... Sly had to make a last minute decision to incapacitate you."

The fox frowned, remembering the last few moments before his blackout. "That explains the trip I was on... But, if your not looking to turn me in, why am I tied up?"

The three thieves each gave the fox a confused look as they stared at him. Wondering what it was, the awkward silence created from it caused his gaze to shift down onto his own body. To his shock, he realized that he wasn't bound as he had originally thought.

"What in the..." he muttered, immediately rising from his seat. He didn't stay up for long however as his legs buckled under his own weight, causing him to stumble backward and collapse back into the chair. "Ugh what's wrong with me..." His entire body felt numb.

"Side effect of the chemicals my darts put into your systems no doubt," Bentley answered, examining the fox's actions thoroughly. "Though I still can't tell what's causing it, they seem to still be in effect."

"Well, if it's just that," the fox growled sarcastically, not liking the idea of being drugged.

"Regarding your position," Bentley said, pausing for a moment as the fox recuperated. "I've hacked into the Interpol systems many times to see your file. You're quite accomplished for being a solo thief. Not to mention your impressive ability to evade the law, as you demonstrated with Inspector Fox." The fox nodded his head slowly, ignoring the somewhat disturbing idea of being silently monitored by the turtle. "You would make an excellent field man to work alongside Sly on important heists."

The fox looked between the three thieves, still astonished that they thought so highly of him, even when they had no idea who he was. "You're serious about this?"

"Of course," Bentley said, an understanding look about his face. "Provided you can prove yourself."

"Prove myself?" the fox parroted, raising questioning eyebrow at the statement.

"Well, we need to see just how skillful you really are. Just how good your talents are and what rumors about you are true or not."

The fox nodded slightly, showing his understanding. "Alright," he said, "this might be interesting." Bracing his muscles the best he could, the fox again tried standing. It felt as though his legs were being stabbed by hundreds of small needles as a sudden rush of blood flowed through his limbs. After several moments of swaying on the spot, the fox smiled as he finally regained his composure.

Sly watched on as the fox they 'invited' into their hideout stood up and began to crack his stiffened joints. The raccoon's eyes slowly detailed the fox, examining him like he would a plan to a big heist.

The first thing the eye catches was obviously the trench coat he wore. It was faded in some areas and there were a few places that were clearly stitched from tears. The worn piece of fabric looked older than he was, why he would wear such a thing was beyond him. The fox wore it open, allowing what he wore underneath to show, just a simple buttoned up shirt and pants. A brown strap could be seen going diagonally across his chest. Sly knew it was from the satchel he had on, kept hidden underneath his coat, a simple enough bag he suspected was used to hold his ill-gotten goods.

All in all, the master thief felt the outfit was too bland. Certainly not something you'd expect from a criminal with his own titled name. Then again, it might just from hanging around his own circle of friends that made him think that way.

For the fox's more natural appearance, it had many strange traits that weren't expected for his species. Most notable was his fur, a dark shade of red, similar to that of a brick wall. Not the most common color for foxes, the raccoon personally preferred the traditional orange. The rest of his coat seemed normal however, the bottom half of his muzzle was white, along with his cheeks that were naturally spiked. The white coloring trailed down the front of his neck and most certainly continued over his chest. Even his eyes seemed out of place, holding a bright shade of yellow, an odd color for a fox.

Besides his fur, his actual body was something else as well. As far as Sly knew, foxes were usually thin in the frame and very quick. The one they had now however seemed taller than usual and was much broader in the shoulders, with the muscle to match. It was actually a difficulty bringing the unconscious criminal into the hideout in the first place, underestimating how heavy he was as they mostly dragged him across the concrete jungle of Paris.

As Sly continued his examination of the fox, his thoughts returned him to the moments before they had gotten a hold of him. Running across rooftops as he trailed the fox, unknown to both the criminal and the lovely Miss Fox who was in pursuit.

It was a good show, he felt bad for not having brought along snacks. He especially enjoyed the moment the fox cornered himself in the alley, it was all he could do to not make himself known as he burst into laughter.

The master thief figured he would need to save their target from Carmelita's clutches, a task he was more than happy to accomplish. But then, the fox managed an escape, much to his own surprise.

Thinking of that moment however, brought back something that had struck him as odd. As he waited for the perfect moment to make his move, Sly overheard their small conversation. The fox was good, the raccoon had to give him that, smoothly talking to the vixen as he quickly formed his escape plan, then executing it almost flawlessly.

But it was what Carmelita had said that continuously rang in his head, 'if only you were a fox.' What had she meant by it? He hadn't a clue. Was she implying something, or was it an insult of some kind? The fox himself reacted to it as a well known fact, even adding more to the strange statement with his own cryptic words.

Staring at the fox now before him, Sly was unable to keep the question on his mind unasked. "So," Sly said, gaining the fox's attention, "what are you?"

Bentley and Penelope both looked at their raccoon friend oddly, confused by the strange question that seemed to come out of nowhere to them. The fox in question however merely looked at him with a weak smile, as though he had told a joke that was only funny for a brief moment.

"Well, Sly," Bentley said, his tone coming off as unintentionally condescending, "he's a fox. It's kind of obvious." But the turtle was taken aback as the aforementioned fox started to chuckle.

"Actually," he said, smirking as all eyes suddenly became riveted to him, "I'm not."

"You're... not?"

"Well..." the fox replied, "it's a half or fifty percent kind of thing. But that technically makes me not one... or something." The strange looks on him got even stranger as he could tell he was doing a poor job at explaining himself. "Let me just show, then I'll tell."

Without waiting for a reaction, the fox held up his forearm, grabbed the sleeve of his coat, and pulled it down. A surprised gasp and two silent stares were gained as the Sly, Bentley and Penelope looked at his bare forearm. Along with the red fur he had everywhere else on his body, the forearm was adorned with several orange stripes moving across the limb.

"My _father_ was a fox," he said, eying their reactions with a mild amusement, "but my mother... well, she was a tigress."

Bentley's startled gaze was immediately shaken away. The intelligent turtle's mind quickly developed the explanation behind it. "You're a hybrid, a crossbreed."

"Mmhmm," he nodded. "Though I take after father more, mother's own traits go further than a simple design on my arm." Without another word, the newly established hybrid removed his coat. It allowed both of his arms to be seen fully, showing off the stripes that ran up each, disappearing underneath the sleeves of the shirt he wore.

But the eyes of the gang only looked at his arms for a few moments as they noticed the other appendage that the coats removal showed. His tail, a strange piece that truly showed his mixed genes. It was shaped like a cat's tail. The fur on it however kept the usual bushiness of a fox's. Several black stripes also ran down the length, ending in a white tip. It was also very dexterous, slowly twisting and turning in any and all directions, much like the tail of any cat, as he stood idle.

Not commenting further, the hybrid held his shirt and lifted it up slightly. His chest was what was expected of a fox, with white fur covering it, connecting with that of his neck and cheeks to make one oddly shaped patch. There were also more stripes, orange like the ones on his arms, running across his back and ending just as they reached his sides.

"There's more on my legs," he said, lowering his shirt as the three member gang had enough time to gawk, "but I think you get the picture."

"So that explains it," Bentley exclaimed, snapping his fingers as he came to a conclusion. "With your natural chemical unbalance, the ones in my darts would create such a reaction as you displayed. It would have put you to sleep instantly as a fox. But as a crossbreed... I can't say for certain."

"I suppose that makes sense," the crossbreed nodded, not following him perfectly, but understanding what he meant.

"Wow," Sly muttered, his mind processing the new information it was fed, "I never would have guessed."

The crossbreed eyed the raccoon suspiciously, a frown slowly etching onto his face. "That's not a problem... is it?"

The master thief was slightly surprised by the question, noticing how defensive it sounded. "Of course not," he said, raising his hands up in his own means of defense. "Just a little surprising, though it does explain a bit."

"Well..." Bentley began, wanting to change the subject and get things underway, "we should begin your test soon. I'd like to get things done while there's still night to cool. So, Cross, if you'd just come over here and-" He was interrupted as the crossbreed held up his hand, signaling for him to be silent.

"Please," he said, turning toward him with a look of disgust on his face, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't refer to me by that ridiculous pseudonym. It's bad enough that's what Interpol calls me. Just call me by my actual name," he held out his hand to the turtle, "Alex Kage."

Bentley accepted the gesture. "Okay then, Alex, follow me." The turtle then turned and wheeled himself across the room to the far side.

Alex noticed the impressive tech that was displayed. A desk was set up against the wall with several large monitors hanging over it, the screens flickered with different windows of information. Wires of all sizes looped about like a spider's web between the monitors and the wall itself.

Opening a drawer, Bentley reached inside and pulled out a small box, no bigger than his palm. "Here," he said, handing Alex the box.

His curiosity coming to, the hybrid lightly shook the box, hearing a rattle inside. Taking the lid off and turning the box over in his hand, he looked down at a small earpiece.

"It's a radio," Bentley said, completely undermining the technology he had just handed to the newcomer in order to put it simply. "It will allow you to converse with any of us while in the field. In its normal setting now, you'll be linked between my computer here as well as any other pieces that have been activated. You can also switch to private lines between myself and any others."

"What about a mic?" he asked, fitting the small device into his ear.

"Doesn't need one," Bentley replied, looking proud of himself as he explained. "It will pick up your voice on its own while filtering out subtle noises it might pick up, such as light breathing."

"Wow," the hybrid said, sounding impressed, "that's something else."

Sly quickly stepped in, making sure Bentley's ego wasn't stroked too much by their new companion. "Okay then, your first test will be to hit a small target we have chosen for you. I'll be with you in the field while Bentley monitors us from the hideout. Details will be explained while on the job." Sly looked Alex in the eyes, his face twisted into a look of determination. "So, you ready to show us what you're made of?"

"Of course," the hybrid replied, matching the look on Sly's face.

"Good, now take this." Sly held up a long strip of cloth and handed it to him.

"What is it?" Alex asked, looking the cloth over in a perplexed state.

"A blindfold," the raccoon answered simply. "You're not part of the gang yet. So, you can't know the location of our _secret lair_. It's for security purposes."

The hybrid rolled his eyes before retrieving his coat and putting it on. "Yeah, I'll bet." He then tied the blindfold over his eyes, submerging his world into darkness.

As he held out his hands to feel his way through the room, it took all of Sly's strength to stifle the laughter burning in his throat. "It's also to do this," Sly said, sticking out his cane and hooking onto the crossbreed's leg.

A sudden yelp of surprise escaped him as he fell forward. With quick reflexes however, his arms shot out to catch himself, preventing the painful face plant that was coming for him.

Sly's cheeky grin stretched out as far as his lips would allow. "Oh yeah, this is going to be fun."

* * *

**A/N: Alright, that's chapter two. Got some information across. Starting off a little slow, but it will pick up quickly. **

_**Wait... this is it? How can that be it? Where's Mur-**_

**Oh God... not you... The story's not over yet. Wait and find out.**

_**But what about the entire ending of Sly 3, about Sly and Ca-"**_

**I said wait and find out!**

**_And who the hell is this random... hybrid was it? And what does he have to do with-"_  
**

**Dammit! I said wait and find out!**

**Anyway... Hope everyone is still interested in the story thus far. As I said, things will pick soon enough as the main plot is gotten into. As well as certain... points that haven't been discussed as of yet.**


	3. Initiation and Explanation

**Chapter 3: Initiation and Explanation**

"I think this is a good spot."

Sly's voice broke through the darkness Alex was suspended in. A relieved sigh escaped him as the thought of regaining his sight sounded too good to be true. To put it all simply, Sly was a terrible seeing eye dog.

"Thank God," he muttered, removing his blindfold and seeing where the raccoon had taken them.

Another seedy neighborhood he noticed, near dilapidated buildings surround them from all sides. It was much like the place where he had escaped Inspector Fox, just as abandoned, and no doubt with its own rich history of less than legal activities.

"And there's still plenty of moonlight to burn," Sly commented, looking up into the sky to see that dawn was far from coming.

Alex huffed agitatedly. "We would have even more time if I didn't have to play your games." It was hard not to be somewhat cross with him. The hybrid had lost count on the number of times he had nearly broken his nose from running into random obstacles while Sly led him, or the number of times the master thief thought it would be funny to play another rousing game of trip the crossbreed..

"Think of it as one big initiation," Sly chuckled. Turning his gaze upward once again, the raccoon pointed up toward the nearest building. "Now, we climb." Without another word, he jumped into the air and latched onto a nearby pole of a streetlight. With his arms and legs wrapped around the metal pole, he shimmied up the light and poised himself at the very top, balancing on the tip of the post with perfection. Then, with a one large jump, he caught the ledge of the building and pulled himself to the roof.

Only moments passed by before Sly's black and gray face peeked over the edge and down toward Alex, looking at him expectantly. Giving building a quick once over, Alex bolted toward it. Jumping quickly, he aimed for a trashcan set just beside the building and used it to push himself even higher onto the structure. Already making it past the halfway point, Alex caught the sill of a window and began to climb. Using every detail that marred the wall from being a flat surface, the crossbreed found many hand and footholds to scale the rest of the way up.

After Alex had joined him on the roof, Sly slowly nodded his head at the performance. "Not bad," he said, his voice intentionally lacking any real sort of praise, "a little slow, but there's always room for improvement."

Alex was about to comment when a sudden screeching ripple tore it's way through his eardrum and vibrated into his brain. With a yelp, he clutched at his ear where the small radio was still resting. As the crackling static died, the nasally voice of Bentley came forward.

"Sorry about that," he apologized, "had to adjust a few settings. It's been a while since I've used the group function on this thing." Surprised by the clarity in his voice, Alex had to peek over his shoulder to check that the turtle wasn't right beside him. "Now, Alex, Sly will take you to the target destination. I'll monitor your progress from here, and I'll help out if needed. But I'm certain if anything in your file is true, then you'll do just fine."

"Alright," Alex answered, feeling awkward that he was addressing someone who wasn't even there, "sounds good. "

Sly smirked as he pointed off toward the horizon. "This way," he said, taking off and leaving the hybrid in the dust.

Not wanting to be shown up too badly, Alex charged after him in a full sprint. In only seconds, they each made it to the edge of the building. Luckily, many of the Paris rooftops were close together, making only a simple leap needed to cross between the buildings.

Sly was surprised when he found himself running side by side with the crossbreed. He was much faster than he looked. Though bulkier than a fox, he was far off from being the size of a full grown tiger. The raccoon began to think what advantages he might have with his split genes.

"So, Alex," Sly said, eying him as they ran, "how did you get into the larceny 'business'?" Alex looked confused at first, wondering why the master thief would start up a conversation in their current situation. Sly knew it was coming, seeing the oddity in the action. But, their rooftop race would go on for some time anyway, he figured the time could be used to get to know the criminal that might end up with his gang. And with Bentley and Penelope listening in from the hideout, it wouldn't have to be repeated at a later time.

The fox-hybrid frowned for a moment, not meeting the raccoon's gaze as they ran in silence for a few moments. "Well," he started, "for the same reason most people become a thief, I really had no choice."

It was then Sly's turn to frown. Though a criminal himself, there were many things that could get underneath his skin when it came to matters that the law frowned on, dishonorable crimes were one of them. But one thing he didn't like about criminals, especially the ones in this day and age, was that they always seemed to divert blame for their actions onto something other than themselves.

"There's always a choice," Sly said, his tone missing the dash of slick cheerfulness it usually had. It caught him off guard when a weak chuckle escaped the crossbreed.

"Heh, that line might work in the movies, Sly, but that's not the case most of the time." A sigh left him at that point as he set his gaze forward, not looking at anything in particular, as his mind scanned through old memories. "I was orphaned when I was fifteen."

Sly was taken aback by the statement, not by the truth itself, but how he said it. There was the obvious amount of inner pain there but the words seemed to carry so much weight on them. The master thief was forced to remember his own past, how a similar occurrence helped make him into what he was today.

"In one night," Alex continued,"I lost everything. My parents, my little brother, my home." He spoke with an unnatural matter-of-fact tone, lacking hardly any real emotion from then on. "With no other family to turn to, I was left on the streets. I lived in an American city at the time, it's... much different than what you'd be used to. That city..." he paused for a moment, Sly noticed a subtle twitch in his upper lip, showing his sharp fangs for just a moment, "well, it wasn't a good place for a crossbreed like myself. So I covered myself up, posed as a fox who just happened to be a little bigger than usual, then fell into a gang."

"A gang, huh?" Sly commented, raising an eyebrow at him.

The hybrid merely shrugged. "It's not like what you have here with the Cooper 'Gang', nor were we a bunch of thugs harassing innocents. Just a group of kids who felt like they had no other place to be. From them, I learned how I could survive on the streets through thievery. While I'm a terrible pickpocket, I found I had a knack for moving about unnoticed. I was able to swipe things from flea market stalls and business shelves with ease."

"Conscience never got in the way?" Sly asked.

Alex chuckled lightly again. "Not at all. It's not like we robbed unemployed single-mothers or anything. We took what we needed from those who could do without. But there were always the risks. I learned that the hard way when I ended up getting a shotgun aimed at my head."

"A shotgun?" Sly inquired, unable to hide the subtle tone of amusement in his voice. "Seems a bit extreme."

"Can't really complain," Alex remarked. "The guy holding it ended up giving me a job at the very place I was planning to rob, even gave me a bed to sleep in. But... it ended when he found out I was a hybird. So I was thrown back into the streets, all because of what I was. There, I eventually found my way into an underground fighting circuit."

Sly was surprised by that. "Really? You fought other guys for money?"

"And a bed to sleep in," Alex replied. "It wasn't some viscous sport. It was more like one really messed up family that liked to beat each other up. Though it might be strange to say, it really was a big point in my life. I learned how to deal with a lot of issues in my past that hounded me for a long time. I even met another crossbreed who ended up becoming my greatest friend. Can't even think what my life would have turned out had I not met him."

Sly chuckled as he again found a similarity. "I can relate to that," he said, smiling fondly as he was reminded of his own friendships. "Don't know where I would be today if it wasn't for Bentley and Murray." There was a long silence after that, they simply kept running from rooftop to rooftop. It quickly became unbearable for the master thief, deciding to continue with his earlier question. "So, if you were so well off as a fighter, how did you end up in Paris as a wanted thief?"

Alex's continued silence brought a touch of worry to him, making the raccoon consider he had crossed an unknown boundary. "Well..." he finally said, sounding almost reluctant to speak for reasons Sly couldn't fathom, "I hate to say it, but I really didn't have a choice. It just sort of... ended. And after that, I found out what I wanted to do with my life. That lasted for a few years before I left the country altogether, wanting to put the past behind me, start over as something other than a criminal. Went up north to Canada for nearly two years, complications arose and I had to leave. Came back to the states and through a few unfortunate and rather stupid mistakes, I found myself wanted by the police, it forced me overseas and into Europe were I eventually made it here. Since Paris seems synonymous with the word thief lately, I figured it wouldn't be a bad occupation to try. I was already wanted by Interpol the moment I stepped into the country, so I really had nothing to lose."

"Huh," Sly murmured. "Explains where your talents come from."

Alex shrugged. "It wasn't too hard to get better at bigger targets. What I learned on the streets and in the ring definitely helped." A hand reached down and patted his side, feeling the solid frame of his sword beneath the cloth of his coat. "Plus, these have helped immensely."

Sly chuckled lightly. "I guess I need to remember that not all thieves have ancient family bloodlines for this sort of thing."

"Can't say I'd want it." Alex remarked, eyeing the Cooper. "Being born a criminal seems to leave little room for choice."

Sly stayed quite after that, thinking on what what he had said. "True..." he murmured.

The master thief then stopped, halting in place on their latest rooftop as he could look out toward scenery. A smile crept onto his lips as he spotted a large building.

"What's wrong?" Alex asked, not seeing what Sly was.

Sly turned to him, his smile enlarging into a full grin. "We've made it." With a simple twirl of his hand, the raccoon gestured for his companion to look out the same way he did.

After a moment of following Sly's sights, Alex spotted the same building. It was much larger than the ones that surrounded it, looking much newer as well and lacking the crumbling ruin motif that the other near condemned structures had. It all made certain for the building to stick out like a sore thumb. The neon sign that clung to the side like a flag made blending in impossible. The hybrid read the bright green letters that ran across it, 'Easy Green Pawn Shop'.

"A pawn shop?" Alex said, nearly shouting in his surprise. "_That's_ our target? A damn pawn shop?"

"That's right," Sly replied, his grin never leaving him as he examined the store from afar.

With Alex's curiosity getting to him, he took a closer look at the building. To his surprise he began to notice something strange about the store. What his eye first caught was the very front. Just on the side, aimed at the front door, was a security camera. Not out of the ordinary at a glance, but the hybrid noticed the superior tech that clung to that wall. It was top of the line, best money could buy and certainly not something one would see at such a simple business.

The second thing he saw was the activity that the place had. Seeing through the windows at the front of the store, it was obvious they were closed. Pitch black on the inside without the tiniest shred of movement within. But at the far back, there were bright lights stretching across the dark concrete. Despite it being the middle of the night, in the few minutes they were standing there, they could see several large loading trucks drive toward the back of the building. Alex quickly figured that it was a storage area of some kind, but he soon realized that it didn't add up for a simple pawn shop.

"This isn't a normal place of business, is it?" Alex asked, turning to Sly with an accusatory look.

Sly looked back at the hybrid with a devious smirk as he nodded his head. "This unassuming store just so happens to be one of the few drop-offs for one Mr. Roice."

A feeling of shock was quickly expressed on Alex's face as he looked at the raccoon with a death wish. "Roice? _The_ crime lord Roice? As in the 'God of the Parisian Underground', _that_ Roice?"

Again Sly nodded his head, his smirk still evident on his face as he knew all too well of the reputation their target had. "He uses these drop-offs to bring his illegal goods into the city. We have received information that a very... _special_ item is coming in tonight. You see, Roice is quite the collector of rare artifacts of eastern cultures. What better way to show us your metal than by stealing from the big man himself?"

Sly expected the hybrid to show a hint of fear to the idea. Criminals didn't mess with Roice or his business, or at least they never lived long enough to say they did. The master thief himself understood how dangerous of a man he was, but there was no passing up such an opportunity.

But to Sly's surprise, Alex's own muzzle curled into an excited grin. "Fantastic," he said, eying the shop with a new found interest, "I've been meaning to make myself a thorn in his side for some time. This seems like a perfect chance."

The raccoon was forced to let out a chuckle at his enthusiasm. "Good then," he said catching the eyes of his comrade as he stared down at the pawn shop. Sly could see a spark in his eyes, a spark that any thief worth their salt had whenever they saw something they wanted, and they knew they had the means to get it.

Knowing what was in store, Sly smirked as he pictured the fun that was about to be had.

The opposite could be said for another. Somewhere within the adventurous city was an observant turtle who groaned loudly in exasperation, predicting the impending trouble that was sure to come.

* * *

**A/N: Okay then, that's chapter three. My apologies for the long wait for this, especially since there isn't really a lot happening at the moment. Had a bit of a... not sure what to call it. Writer's block? Nah, just a bit of a lazy fingers kind of deal.**

**Anyway, a bit of backstory explanation, a set up for the next chapter etc. Oh, and what's this? A brief mention of a character who may or may not play a role later on in the story? As if it were a... plot point? Nah, probably nobody, pay him no mind...**


End file.
